On The Precipice
by jasmine105
Summary: Horatio battles his fiercest opponent - himself - in this one-shot. Action takes place a few years prior to CSI Miami.


**ON THE PRECIPICE**

Horatio stood at the top of the stairs, looking down on the glittering scene below. The Policeman's Ball: how out of character for him to attend... and yet, here he was.

As he scanned the noisy crowd, his pulse quickened and his bright blue eyes snapped joyfully. A small smile played about the corners of his mouth. He was happy, his heart filled with anticipation.

_You fool! _accused his cool, logical brain._ What do you have to be so happy about? Think, man, think! What are you doing?_

Not for the first time, the nagging voice deep inside sought to dampen his mood, reminding him he had no right to feel this happy… or so hopeful.

He brushed aside the whispering admonishments. There would be time later for reflection. Right now, he just wanted to look at her. Stand near enough to smell her perfume. Listen to her laughter... delight in the feel of soft lips that casually brushed his cheek with sisterly affection.

That's all. Completely innocent. Well within the boundaries of acceptable behavior.

_Really?_ His rational brain laughed at him. _Self-delusion, pal – pure and simple. Who are you kidding?_

Okay... he knew it was folly. Loving _this_ woman and wanting _her_. Nothing good could come of it. It was a losing proposition. He knew all that. How many times had he had this battle with himself? God knew it had been his intention to boycott tonight's affair.

_Best to leave God out of it, Pal_, chided the annoying voice.

Horatio quickly shut down that line of thought. But it was true - he had intended to just stay in tonight, pour himself a stiff drink, perhaps read a book. Yet, in spite of his resolve to stay away, here he was, looking about the room, searching for her.

Somewhere deep inside himself, he heard another round of ironic laughter.

_Go ahead, have your laugh!_ he told the small, irritating voice. _Perhaps you're right and I'm a fool... but I'll worry about that tomorrow._

As for now, it was enough to be here. And really, was there something so wrong with just seeing her and enjoying the warm tide of feeling he always experienced in her presence? That's as far as it would go. _Could_ go.

Didn't he deserve at least that much? He didn't set out to fall in love with her. It just... happened. And so what? Who knew how he felt? Only himself.

Even as the comforting justifications took form in his brain, he knew he was fooling himself.

The traitorous voice piped up again: _Always thought you had everything figured out, didn't you? The tough guy, never getting in so deep that he couldn't get out. Well, look at you now - a cliché, another sadly comic figure with a case of unrequited love. And you know it has to stay that way. So what's this all about, pal? Be a man. Turn around and head for the door before it's too late._

Frowning, he clamped down on the persistent voice and, with effort, turned his thoughts to the scene below.

The ballroom was crowded with people, all milling about, dressed 'to the nines'. The sound of their chatter was deafening. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of the group song of locusts, shrill and meaningless. The soaring amplification of it struggled against the music the small orchestra was playing and conspired with the voice in his head to darken his mood.

He looked around, trying to peer more closely into the crowd of revelers.

_Where the devil was she?_

Subdued lighting and the crush of people made it difficult to find her.

_Didn't she come?_

Disappointment began to nibble around the outer edges of his mood. Taking a deep breath, he began his descent down the stairs, threading his way through the crowded room, smiling at this person and that. Pretending to be one of them, he accepted the greetings and friendly slaps on the back from persons made jolly from too much alcohol.

He hated events such as this... the necessary glad-handing and the insincere smiles. Seeing others trying so desperately to convince themselves they were having a good time always left him feeling vaguely depressed. As always, he was bewildered by the false bonhomie brought on by raucous celebration. It was not his style.

Yet here he was - a willing attendee at an event in which he had no interest.

And why? For the chance to spend one evening with her in a setting that wouldn't arouse her suspicions – or her husband's.

_But... Where was she?_

His brain issued another troubled warning. _Turn back, you're being stupid... What's the point of this? _

However, his brain wasn't in control tonight; the heart had usurped the leadership role, and was in no hurry to relinquish it.

Still, the persistent voice with its litany of doubts had almost convinced him, and he was about to turn back toward the stairs when - _finally!_ - he saw her.

On the outer edges of the ballroom, she sat alone, her table companions having apparently deserted her for the dance floor.

Her head was lowered over an event program, and she gazed fixedly at it as if deep in study. But something in her aspect tugged at Horatio's heart and caused him a small pang. He knew immediately that she was only pretending to study the program. In spite of her attempt to seem at ease, he was not fooled. He had observed her too often not to recognize the loneliness – and the sadness. She was so still; not at all the animated, spirited woman he'd grown to love. The vulnerable curve of her neck held his attention, and he found himself momentarily mesmerized by its delicate grace as well as by the chocolate brown curls that trailed down one side of it.

Unaware of Horatio's notice, she remained eerily still – like a statue. It hurt him to see the lines of desolation in her bearing. He knew who was to blame for that. _Raymond._

Horatio looked around. _Where was he? Why wasn't he with her? Didn't he come?_

A mix of anger and guilt bubbled up in his brain, complicating his mood. It was always this way when he was confronted with his brother's husbandly neglect. _Damn him!_

But even before the curse formed fully in his brain, Horatio chastised himself for his hypocrisy. If he were honest, he had to admit he was glad for these few minutes of privacy with her. For a selfish moment, it didn't matter to him if his brother's absence hurt her. What mattered was that Raymond had again screwed up, and he, Horatio, was there to comfort her.

And that was the reason for all the inner warnings... and the guilt.

He quickened his steps toward her, longing to set things right... to make her smile. Yes… to comfort his brother's wife…

She looked up at him when he approached the table, surprised to see him. "Horatio! I thought, perhaps, you'd avoid this..." She looked behind him and her lips turned up tenderly as she met his eyes. "No date?"

He smiled, leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "No date," he whispered, allowing himself to fleetingly inhale the sweetness of her jasmine-scented perfume. Then, assuming his role as the good brother-in-law, he sat down beside her.

"Where is Ray?" he asked, looking around.

A bleak expression settled on her face. Wordlessly, she shrugged her bare shoulders, the graceful gesture more eloquent than any words she might utter. Her gaze slid away from Horatio.

"Yelina?" he prompted.

She breathed deeply, still refusing to meet his eyes. "We were supposed to come together... but he got a call. A private call… one that could not be discussed, apparently. Police business. Or so he said." She dragged her eyes back toward Horatio. "You know how it is."

He sighed. Yes, he knew how it was. He'd warned Raymond about working in Narcotics, how it would eat up his life, pull a veil of secrecy over him, and force him into situations he'd not easily escape. But his impetuous brother had signed on for it anyway, in spite of Horatio's advice. Or perhaps because of it.

His mind drifted back many years ago to the young boy who'd followed him about, seeing in his older brother the 'father' role their own father had abdicated in his drunken rages. For years, the Caine brothers had been inseparable. It was to Horatio that Raymond always came when needing to be consoled, when wanting advice... protection. From a young age, Horatio found himself thrust into the role of caregiver and willingly took on the responsibility for his brother's needs. He encouraged the boy, looked out for him... and made right his momentary lapses.

As Raymond approached young manhood, he began to assert his independence, sometimes resenting the advice that Horatio gave him. He began, instead, to do just the opposite of what Horatio suggested. The once close relationship became on Ray's part a game of one-upmanship.

The young man began to travel with a dangerous crowd, yet he continued to stay on the right side of the law thanks to his own good sense - as well as a brother who forcefully kept him out of trouble. When Horatio wasn't successful in that effort, he'd take care of the boy's stupid transgressions. In spite of the complicated relationship that began to develop between them, there had never been any doubt in Horatio's mind that he could wrest his passionate brother back from the brink of destructive behavior.

But then Horatio had made the move down to Miami, leaving Ray still in New York. Horatio had felt keenly the need to start over again, somewhere new, after the deaths of his parents. He wanted to go somewhere where the name 'Caine' had no special meaning – and wasn't tied to scandal. It had been clear to him that if he stayed in New York, it would destroy him. Too many sorrows. Too much anger. And, of course, too many memories... most of them bad.

So he left.

Ray had just entered college and was living with a distant aunt and uncle in New York. Horatio kept in touch by telephone and letters, but a coolness began to define their relationship, one that Horatio believed was of his own making. He had, after all, left his brother in New York - _alone_ - to handle the memories and the scandal... but when you're drowning and need something to cling to, you reach for whatever log you can find.

For Horatio, that log had been Miami.

"Horatio?" Yelina's warm, accented English, called him back to the present. "You seem so far away... I felt that I lost you for a few moments."

"Never," he said, turning his full attention toward her and leaning in closely. He took her hand in his and stared deeply into her eyes. "So... you came alone?"

She nodded. "Ray said he'll be here later." A soft, cynical laugh made its way past her lips. "Probably in time to take me home. Mama is visiting... she is watching Ray, Jr."

At the mention of his six-year old nephew, Horatio grinned. "He will keep her busy, Yelina. I hope she's up to it."

"She is... she says taking care of Ray, Jr. will be a vacation compared to my brother's four boys. Mama calls them 'The Little Hellions.'"

Horatio could understand why. The few occasions he'd met Yelina's nephews had been memorable for their chaotic clamor.

As they sat in silence, watching the dancers, the orchestra began to play a soft romantic tune. Horatio watched the play of emotions on Yelina's lovely face: nostalgia, disappointment, sadness. He tilted his head slightly. "Would you like to dance?"

"No... not really. It's just..." she paused, looking wistfully at the couples swaying on the dance floor in slow time to the dream-like melody. "It is just that the song reminds me of another time... early in my marriage... One of those perfect nights when everything seems magical. Same song, but another night. Another... Raymond."

Her eyes serious, she faced Horatio. "Where did he go, Horatio? What happened to that warm, exciting man I married? Sometimes I no longer feel I know him. He's... secretive. He avoids me... on the job... at home. Is it me? Have I changed?" Her face was a mask of misery.

"No! I don't want you to think that way. You mustn't allow Raymond's behavior to make you doubt yourself. The problem is Raymond… not you."

"But, Horatio, he's looking for something... something he can't find at home. Ray, Jr. and I are not enough for him... it's as if he is haunted by something and I don't know what to do about it! We're not - I'm not - exciting enough to hold him. What will happen to us, Horatio?"

A small rush of anger coursed through Horatio at the sudden desperation in her voice. _Raymond! What's wrong with you? If only I were in your shoes..._

If only.

That was the crux of it, wasn't it?

Suddenly, a vivid recollection bloomed in his brain, and he remembered the first time he'd met Yelina...

Following in his brother's footsteps, Raymond had joined the NYPD, working as a detective as Horatio once had done. Unlike Horatio, his manner soon put him at cross-purposes with his superiors and he found himself compelled to start again... elsewhere. One day, not too long after the suggestion by his sergeant that Raymond look for 'other opportunities,' Horatio, now working with the Bomb Squad in Miami, received a call from his brother.

"So, how's the weather in Miami, big brother?"

The 'weather' had been fine enough to bring Raymond down and, on Horatio's merits, he had been able to secure work as a detective.

For a time, it had gone well. Very well.

The brothers resumed their close relationship and became legendary for their inseparability - as well as their taciturnity. Trust had always been difficult for both. They had seen too much and been through too much to trust others easily. Their shared tumultuous childhoods still bound them together. It wasn't surprising that their common history made each the best candidate for the other's confidences.

What _had_ been a surprise to Horatio was that his brother's presence in Miami turned out to be a source of happiness for him; Horatio hadn't realized how much he'd needed a sense of family. He thought he'd put all that behind him.

Then his brother met Yelina.

Like Raymond, she was a detective with Miami-Dade, and his brother fell hard for her when they met.

It had taken Horatio more time… and, when it happened, it had been unexpected.

The first time Horatio met her, her laughing brown eyes, suggesting some hidden merriment, had charmed him. The beautiful Colombian seemed excitingly exotic to the two brothers who had grown up in an area of Brooklyn that was predominantly Irish-Catholic. Yelina had been both shy and sophisticated, and something in her bearing hinted at deep pools of passion. More important, she had the ability to laugh at herself - and the foibles of men. Especially men.

He'd liked her immediately, and enjoyed the sound of her rich laughter as well as her colorful beauty. His brother had found his match in Yelina. After a whirlwind courtship, the two had married – with Horatio standing happily at their side. Things had been good for everyone.

For a time.

But Raymond found it hard to escape his past. It seemed a hard task for either of the Caine brothers to sustain happiness for long. They hadn't had very good role models in the domestic department. Not too many years passed before Ray began to seem unsettled, and Horatio watched helplessly as his brother began systematically destroying everything that was good in his life. He grew bored with domesticity, and the new baby did little to enliven things.

It wasn't that he didn't love his son. Or his wife. In his fractured way, he did. Horatio knew that.

The problem was that neither he nor Raymond had ever learned by example how to be good husbands or parents. Their childhoods had been an emotional hardscrabble - too many episodes of trying too hard to please a violent, capricious parent, of hoping the infrequent happier times might last. They never did. After a while, they both accepted this, and learned to cope in their own ways. And, in some strange way, they both learned to use the violence and danger inherent in their own genetic code in a manner acceptable to society. At least, it had seemed so for a time... until Raymond decided life was closing in on him. He needed something more. An outlet.

And so, against Horatio's advice, he signed up for Narcotics.

Horatio watched as Yelina, still caught up in some long-ago memory, continued to listen to the music. She raised a slender arm and her tanned, elegant hand brushed aside an errant lock of dark brown hair that was curling too close to her eyes. Something about the gesture caused a deep longing inside him. He wanted to touch that silky curl with his fingers, and tenderly move it behind her ear... and then place his lips at her temple… and then trail them downward...

He bit his lower lip and looked away.

_Well, there you have it_, he thought. _I want her. My brother's wife._

A choking feeling of guilt washed over him and for a moment the glitter of the ballroom seemed to dull just like his mood.

_My brother's wife._

When did his feelings for Yelina change from brotherly affection to… this? This feeling of needing to see her, be near her. To touch her. There were times when she would look his way and the desire would rise fiercely within him, almost overwhelming in its ferocity. In his mind's eye, he saw himself reaching out to cup the side of her face with his hand and bringing that compelling smile closer to his own lips.

His bad luck - to find the one woman who enticed him married to his brother.

_My brother!_

When had it begun? How had it begun?

Perhaps it had been during those times when she'd call him, frantic with worry as days passed and Raymond still hadn't come home.

Perhaps it had been during the vigil both he and Yelina had kept when Ray, Jr. had come down with a fever so high that he'd convulsed and Raymond had been nowhere to be found.

Yes, that may have been the beginning. Together the two of them had sat late into the night, watching over the boy, worried about him. He recalled the fear on his sister-in-law's face, and the too-vulnerable look of her tender lower lip as she bit it to keep from crying with worry for her son. On this occasion – and so many others, Raymond should have been there, sharing the pain, the responsibility. Comforting his wife. Not leaving the job to his brother.

_Especially_ not to his brother!

Oh, Raymond would eventually show up. Always charming, contrite, glib - promising Yelina that it would be different next time.

Things were always going to be different for Raymond… next time.

But 'next time' never was different.

How could it be when Raymond was undercover? Living, perhaps, two lives?

Yes, that was how it had started... Horatio watching the formerly vivacious, charming woman grow thin and sad, her beautiful eyes full of uncertainty and confusion. He'd watch... and he'd find himself reaching out, holding her close in brotherly comfort. Consolation.

But at some point, the consolation had turned into something else, and while holding her, he began to pretend she was his own.

Yes, his brother's wife. But did Raymond care? The way he, Horatio, did?

And Horatio cared so much!

So much that he'd begun to hate himself when on occasion he would experience a brief, dark wish that Raymond would never come back!

In the fullness of those thoughts, for an instant, he'd allow his mind to wander past carefully constructed boundaries... _What would happen if Raymond never came back? If Yelina were free? Free to love... to choose again? To choose... me?_

Horatio was tired of being caregiver to his brother! He was a man - still young, strong. Viral. He had feelings. Desires. He was in love with a woman he couldn't have.

_But what if? What if Raymond ceased to be an impediment?_

It was then that the guilt would overwhelm him, and he'd silently renew his loyalty to his brother. He'd tether in place more securely the boundaries that kept him from drifting into dangerous territory. He often felt he was standing on the precipice of a yawning pit, about to fall into the darkness below, unable to save himself.

Only his boundaries saved him.

_And yet..._

Sitting so close to the woman who continued to captivate him, he was tempted.

A strong, giddy feeling unexpectedly came over him! Suddenly, rapturously, he wanted to toss aside caution and responsibility and guilt! He wanted nothing more than to make that fatal jump and greet joyously whatever was down inside that pit!

Just as the traitorous thought entered his mind, Yelina chose that moment to look his way, and her eyes caught his. Too quick for him, she read the longing in his eyes before he could wipe them clean - and her breath caught.

"Horatio?"

He turned away, swallowing awkwardly.

She said his name again, more softly, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He was surprised to see that he still held her hand, and felt the bite of her wedding rings against his flesh. "Horatio, what is it?"

And then he looked at her, really looked at her, and allowed the mask to fall. He let her see it: all of it. The intensity of feeling, the desire... the need.

A hot, flashing jolt of joy coursed through his veins when he saw an answering recognition burning brightly in her eyes. She cared. She cared! He could see it, feel it. Taste it.

_Oh God! Oh God, no!_

She again repeated his name, this time her tone different. This time in her voice, he heard the longing for something she didn't have, the wanting, and - yes - a sad regret and so much more.

"Horatio."

His heart beat swiftly, and a lump of pain lodged in his throat. He couldn't bear it. "Don't, Yelina! For the love of God, don't look at me that way!"

She leaned closely, her breath feathering his cheek. He felt the need in the warmth of her breath. "What way, _mi querido?_"

His own breath became shallow. "Damn it, you know 'what way.'" He shifted uncomfortably.

She leaned back in her chair. A look of hurt confusion crossed her features. "Horatio? I thought... you looked... I thought you... cared."

He heard the bafflement and misery in her voice, and it stung him. _What had he opened up?_

Troubled, he ran his hand through his hair. "I do care... I do... But I must never say so again... I can't. You know that. _We_ can't."

And there it was. The impasse. Unsaid, but separating them like two gardens on either side of a brick wall.

_His brother_.

To move forward would push them both over the precipice. Would they survive it? He doubted it, in spite of an almost desperate longing to believe otherwise. Could they ever be happy knowing they'd betrayed his brother? Did it even matter that Raymond was a poor husband?

The point - _damn it!_ - was that he was her husband. And he was Horatio's brother. Both points would always be paramount in each of their hearts despite their feelings for one another. How could it be any other way?

Looking at the devastation in her eyes, knowing his own expression was no cheerier, he dropped his gaze from hers. _Perhaps it would have been better,_ he thought raggedly, _not to have ever seen the answering passion in her eyes. _Now he knew what might be... and yet never would be. A new hell to contemplate in the wee, sad hours of the morning...

The passion slowly cooled between them, and Yelina lowered her head, gently removing her hand from his. Horatio stared into the contents of the water glass before him.

_We cannot do this_, he commanded himself. _No_ - _We **will not **do this._

Carefully, regretfully, he backed away from the precipice.

A quiet moment or two passed as they both kept private their thoughts about what had just occurred. They realized they had come to something new and strange in their relationship... something forbidden.

Abruptly, they were forced from their own reflections by the familiar and falsely hearty voice of the man who stood, suddenly, before them. "Well! What a dashing pair the two of you make! So, brother, are you trying to steal my woman while I'm out keeping Miami safe for its citizens?"

Raymond's teasing banter caused the would-be lovers to look up, and, after a beat, all three began to laugh. But something was different... uneasy. Horatio recognized a lack of sureness in Raymond's face and tone that made him wonder if his brother had seen something just moments ago. Something that made him aware that the lay of the land had somehow changed. Twin feelings of remorse and tenderness for Raymond swept over Horatio, and, oddly, he felt compelled to reassure his brother.

He rose from his chair to meet Ray, drawing him close for a brief embrace. "Just keeping her company until you arrived, brother." Horatio smiled, including both Raymond and Yelina in his gaze. "It was a pleasant duty."

"Well, big brother, you're relieved from that obligation now." Leaning forward he held out his hands toward Yelina, who stood up. "Hey, baby," he greeted softly, dropping a kiss on her lips. "Sorry I'm late."

She smiled. "You're here now... that's what is important."

"Horatio, if you'll excuse us, I'm going to take my beautiful wife for a romantic spin around the dance floor."

Horatio had been examining his fingernails with seeming interest, but he looked up when Ray addressed him. "You're excused. I think she's been wanting to dance." He turned to leave.

Raymond stopped him. "You're going?"

"Yes... I think so. You know how I hate these things."

He smiled at Yelina. Again the good brother-in-law, nothing more. "Enjoy the evening, you two."

He gently slapped his brother on the back as he started to move away, but then paused. He leaned in close to Raymond's ear and whispered, "Be good to your wife, Raymond - she deserves it."

A brief look of indignation flared in Raymond's eyes but quickly died, replaced by confusion. "I always am."

Horatio raised a brow and simply stared at him. He then left them, moving quickly toward the staircase.

He just wanted to get the hell out of there. He'd had enough. The happiness he'd felt upon arrival had turned black and ugly. He felt guilty for something he hadn't even done.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped for a moment, looking out over the ballroom. Yes, there she was... embraced in Raymond's arms, languidly dancing to the slow music. He watched as Raymond whispered something in her ear, eliciting a gentle peal of laughter from her. Grinning, her husband pulled her closer.

As they whirled around to the beat of the music, she faced Horatio briefly, her eyes peeking over Raymond's shoulder, and meeting his. For a few heart-wrenching seconds, he read her unhappiness at the roles they'd chosen to play... and he also read the invitation.

He could have her. He knew he could.

The temptation was fierce.

_His brother's wife._

He turned away.

THE END


End file.
